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solomons-finest-rum · 1 year

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Hello to one of my favourite Alfie fic writers! Since you're taking requests, I'd like to make one as well.

I don't know how it works but how about a scenario/imagine where Tommy gets in some kind of trouble (as always) and Alfie suggests that his lovely gangster wife could help and goes to introduce them but as it turns out it's none other than the Shelby's sister/cousin/relative/friend/or maybe even an ex? (Your call one this one) who they thought was dead or something?

Idk if it's even worth your time and effort but I just wanted to make a request ;) No pressure, of course!

Love you and your writing a lot!

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 1

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you to @zablife for being the most gracious beta!💗💗💗💗💗 and thank you Anon for this request, because actually it inspired a full-blown multi-chapter idea! So this is set around... Season 5 I suppose? But I'm going to ignore everything in it and Season 6 too. Let's pretend none of it happened and just focus on the fun part! That is driving Tommy insane and making Alfie say outrageous lines.

WORD COUNT — 2,286

Masterlist

In retrospect, Tommy Shelby felt he should have known better. He should have fucking known that the moment, the moment, he came to Margate to sort the bloody situation out, exactly two things would happen.

One, he would have to sit and listen with a straight face to Alfie’s inspired monologue, the subject of which had swerved from elephants to bank robbery in about two and a half minutes, and then managed to touch upon just about everything else under the sun.

Tommy remained quite sure that the sense of Alfie’s rambling had been long lost to history and the point of it all was just to talk him to death, really. Put him out of his misery with nonsense alone.

“Now then, Tommy, as I said, right, I ain’t the vindictive type, I really ain’t, so I am gonna help ya out just this once, right, outta the goodness of my own heart.”

Tommy managed not to roll his eyes. Barely.

“‘Cause I am a changed man these days, Tommy, an’ it can be that the old man that I am, I’m goin’ soft on ya, right, an’ so tradition dictates, mate, to ask for more than ten thousand for my troubles.”

Tommy raised a brow.

“But as things currently stand with the medical bills, on the account of bein’ shot in the face by some cunt, right… Fifteen would sound proper fair, mate.”

Thank fuck for small mercies, Tommy thought, then lit another cigarette and promptly got up to leave. Alfie apparently managed to settle both sides of the conversation, negotiations included, and their American problem could very well sort itself out all on his own—thus proving to Tommy once more that the only thing he could really count on in this world had always been lunatics.

“Right, the fuck you’re doin’ now, sit down!”

Tommy frowned and remained standing, cigarette in the corner of his mouth and sheer outrage emanating from his entire person. The question of “what in fuck’s name do you want now, you crazy bastard?” overtook his face.

“Right, I need to make a bloody phone call,” Alfie said then, which explained exactly nothing.

Yes, that was the second thing Tommy had been so sure would happen. Alfie would first go on a tangent, then formulate a plan that involved three separate layers of deception, a bribe, and a crate of dynamite (probably).

Then Tommy would get caught in the middle as bloody always and Polly would have his head for going along with Alfie’s plan in the first place.

What he didn’t expect was for Alfie to change his tone of voice completely as soon as the person picked up on the other end:

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s me. Come to the house, alright? Right, ‘cause I need ya here for somethin’. No, not like the— Bloody hell, woman, just don’t fuckin’ argue with me for once, alright?”

Sometimes a rare occasion would present itself for Tommy Shelby to become fucking speechless. Truth be told, he remained rather surprised that two such occasions had also involved Alfie Solomons, undoubtedly purely for the Devil’s bloody amusement.

“Who was that then, Alfie?”

“None of ya fuckin’ business.”

Tommy had a sneaky feeling there wasn’t a clever enough question in existence that could have pushed Alfie to say anything more. He looked smug as hell for having pulled that stunt off so Tommy was willing to see it through.

For old time’s sake.

The sun was setting and they had another drink, then Tommy let Alfie go on another tangent about… Tea import. Perhaps. Who knew, he wasn’t really listening.

On drink three Tommy was alerted by a car pulling up to the house, followed by a door slam and a rhythmic clacking of high heels on the porch. Tommy looked to Alfie, but the man remained infuriatingly calm.

Just as Tommy was about to reach for his gun, the door to Alfie’s study opened unceremoniously and a scent of expensive perfume wafted across the room. Tommy turned around and tried his best to keep up the indifferent facade, but failed miserably. Nothing could have prepared him for you walking through that door, with a giant bodyguard no less, following you like a second shadow.

“Alright there, Billy?” Alfie greeted the bodyguard casually and the man grunted in response. “Right then, might ya wait in the car for us, mate? This whole bloody business will take a minute.”

Tommy then watched as Alfie approached you and planted an affectionate kiss to your cheek, at which point Tommy stood up abruptly.

For a moment he just stood there and stared; a state he didn’t find himself in too often these days.

“Darling, are we having guests?” you asked Alfie in a tone so familiar to Tommy; so like your mother. Pleasant, on the verge of sarcastic.

By God, either that Camden bastard was a magician or you had a twin sister that Polly never mentioned. Because it wasn’t possible… It couldn’t be you. Not according to the file he stole from the parish. By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

“Right then, Tommy, might I present my lovely wife,” Alfie said. “Sweetie, this here is Tommy Shelby, right, all the way from the ungodly place they call Birmingham—”

“Tommy Shelby?” you interrupted and looked at Tommy with a smile so like Polly’s that Tommy nearly lost his composure again. “My, my… And there you went and promised you were done with the life, Alfie.”

“Right, an’ how could that—”

“Anna,” Tommy interrupted what he was sure was a budding monologue from Alfie.

“Yes?” you asked. “You know my name?”

“I… Know your mother.”

“Know?” There it was again. That curious smirk of yours that could really mean anything. Tommy found it harder and harder to keep up the charade.

“But that’s not possible, Mr. Shelby.”

“What’s not possible?”

Your tone remained polite, but your dark eyes said it all. The expression of quiet resolve Tommy thought only one person capable of delivering with such resentment.

“I’m an orphan, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy said nothing to that, because what in hell could he even say? All of a sudden the American issue faded into nothingness, replaced solely by the phantom standing before him.

“So you did not lie, I see,” you turned to your husband with a quizzical expression, seeing as Tommy went quiet again. “He really is as strange as the papers make him. No matter, though, Mr. Shelby, I hope you like chicken? My husband insists I’m a terrible cook, but you must stay for dinner.”

Tommy nodded mechanically and put out his cigarette just to busy his hands with something. When he looked at Alfie, though, Tommy noticed how the man’s mouth twitched, clearly indicating the scheme was playing exactly how he wanted it to. Mad bastard, Tommy thought. There was no saying if he was being played or tricked or helped. Probably all at once, but solely for Alfie’s benefit of course.

“Right, curious as I am, luv, what delectable fuckin’ option you maimed and butchered for dinner, Tommy isn’t stayin’—” Alfie then stopped himself when two sets of identical Shelby scowls got directed his way.

Tommy did stay for dinner and made sure to clean his plate, too. He didn’t mind the food at all; it reminded him of Polly’s simple cooking back in the day when she would take care of Tommy and his siblings in Small Heath.

The more he listened to you talk and bicker with Alfie, the more of your mother he saw in you and the angrier he got at seeing you here of all places, as Alfie’s wife, unable to speak to you in plain terms. Tommy wasn’t exactly sure which made him angrier, though—the fact that you were Alfie’s wife or the fact that the sly bastard had kept you from your true family for who knows how many years. How did he even find you?

All the questions he had were still swirling around in Tommy’s head and he wasn’t particularly paying attention to anything else, besides staring daggers at Alfie. He was hoping there would be a moment to talk to you alone, but of course your husband would never allow it. He watched Tommy like a hawk the entire evening, sometimes with just a hint of a smile to suggest he was still three steps ahead of everyone else.

“See you never got accustomed to that fancy cookin’ they’re offerin’ ya at the mansion these days, Tommy,” Alfie said, undoubtedly truly enjoying the charade. “Tommy’s an MP, darlin’, right about two steps from gettin’ a knighthood I reckon. Yeah, a real prince he is.”

The way Alfie said the word was so clearly a jab at Tommy’s ancestry that he didn’t even flinch. What he was curious about was your reaction, but you remained perfectly pleasant:

“Don’t tease, love, we haven’t had guests in ages and I’m not letting you drive this one away.”

When the maid took away the plates, you lit a cigarette in a swift overdone gesture and Tommy was once more taken aback with your resemblance to Polly.

“Well, I’ll leave ya both to it,” you announced as you got up. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Shelby.” You extended your hand and Tommy shook it. “I know you tried your best with the chicken and I appreciate it,” you paused and tilted your head to the side as if sizing Tommy up.

“I rarely trust your husband’s judgement,” he replied.

The way you smiled reminded Tommy of a cat that got into the pantry. He decided not to think about it too much.

“I see. Goodnight then, Mr. Shelby.”

As soon as Tommy heard you got upstairs, he turned to Alfie who, unsurprisingly, already had a gun pointed at him. It was a casual way of it that was the most infuriating—Alfie’s hand was more so resting on the table and the gun just happened to be there, pointing at Tommy.

“Now then, Tommy, let’s be reasonable about this, mate.”

Tommy clenched his jaw and remained silent, but his murderous glare said it all.

“There are four people at the house, right, includin’ you, me, my wife, then the maid… Then there’s Billy outside, right, who’s gonna be rightly worried once he doesn’t get my dismissal for the night. So I want ya to be real cold an’ calculated about it, Tommy, just like I know ya can be, ‘cause if ya decide to off me for no reason now…”

“No reason.”

“Right.”

“You’re old enough to be her father.”

“Yeah an’ fortunately I’m not, ‘cause that’d be right fuckin’ awkward at the temple, mate.”

“Temple?”

“What’d ya think, Tommy, that I smacked her over the head and dragged her into my cave?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Right, we’ll have to show ya the pictures then, she looked stunnin’.” Alfie leaned back in his chair. “Tell ya what, mate, why don’t ya come by for tea one day?”

“Tea.”

“Yeah. We have it, Tommy, we’re not animals.”

Tommy said nothing to that. He was still reviewing his options, but as he wasn’t a fan of spontaneous action, the patient approach seemed appropriate. The offer, though, just like everything else about the situation, was fucking infuriating.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Fuck you, Alfie.”

That finally made Alfie smile and for some reason he lowered the gun.

“Right, so seein’ as we’re family, Tommy, and what a happy coincidence this is, I must say, I feel like we should talk fuckin’ proper. None of that shit.” Alfie then gestured between them as if he hadn’t been responsible for “that shit” in the first place.

“We’ve been talking, Alfie,” Tommy deadpanned.

“Yeah, but then there’s still somethin’ ya haven’t told me about your American troubles, isn’t there, mate, so I’m expectin’ you’ll be more honest with me in the future. Now that I’ve brought the right arguments to the table…”

The hint of a threat in that statement almost made Tommy wish he still had his razor cap around.

“She’s Polly’s only daughter, Alfie.”

“Right, I’m aware of that.”

Tommy nodded, feigning understanding between them. As always, handling Alfie very much resembled handling a live grenade without a pin.

“This can’t be the way to end things.”

“Who’s endin’ things, Tommy?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, an’ I’m going to let this one slide, Tommy, ‘cause you just got a lot to process, mate, so I’m prepared to be understandin’.”

Tommy shook his head and reached into his jacket pocket, at which Alfie uncocked the gun. Tommy slowly pulled out his cigarette box, but Alfie never even flinched. It was gruesomely reassuring to still have been right, even in the position that Tommy currently found himself in.

Alfie Solomons would always remain Alfie Solomons, even with the whole song and a dance about getting old and senile. He was still the same mad bastard Tommy came to know all those years ago, and as things stood, Tommy found himself wondering if this time he shouldn’t try poison instead of a bullet.

“Tommy,” Alfie sighed, “with three good eyes workin’ between us, mate, I really would greatly mind if I somehow acquired a fuckin’ tumour in my lungs, too.”

Tommy said nothing and he knew Alfie hated it.

“Which means put that shit out, mate, and listen to what I’m about to say, ‘cause I got a feeling you’ll really wanna hear it.”

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x reader

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snarky-wallflower · 10 days

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for the fic writers ask: 2, 14, 33, and 37! or any combination of those if you dont wanna do em all lol.

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

okay, so my top-used five tags are POV Third Person, Angst, One-Shot, Not Beta Read, and Canon Compliant. I think they do explain my writing habits, because I really love getting into the implications of a story, and I am. bad. at waiting for betas sometimes, and not great at continuing a story for longer than a couple of thousand words.

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer?

honestly, i'll read a lot, so nothing immediately comes to mind?

33. If you write chaptered fics, what’s your ideal chapter length to write? Is it different from your ideal chapter length to read?

stares at the WIPs I have not updated for nearly SIX MONTHS pas de masque, The Show Must Go On, I am so sorry. honestly, I really never plan out my chaptered fics, as the evidence shows - but a chaptered fic I'm recently proud of and that I actually finished was about three chapters, and 24k, so I'd say THAT was my ideal chapter length to write. so much fun. at some point, i need to reread my own fic. And I can and will devour 100k-300k worth of epics, even if I haven't been as good as doing that recently as when I was younger. shoutout to you, @acaciapines, whose TOH daemonverse fics are something i am SO excited for. you're gonna kill it.

37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

ohhhh okay, one of my favourite fics I ever wrote would be always be my favourite ghost, from Night in the Woods. It explored grieving Casey Hartley, and how at the end of it all, so much of his life was left unresolved. how he never even got a funeral. it tugged at my heartstrings, that part killed me. so i decided to write people holding one for him. i really loved getting to explore his relationships with those around him, even if he wasn't there. from bea barely knowing him but still being pissed that he'd been taken, from angus knowing that he deserved better, gregg losing his closest friend, and to mae knowing that she'd missed out on so much of his final years, and still missing him anyways. and to maybe, knowing that if she'd stayed, she could have fallen for him. (shoutout to @doyouhearthunder for inspiring that part, as I read all of his NITW fics and that definitely played a role there.) i think i explored grief well there - in a game that has such a bittersweet ending, there aren't many threads to resolve. but this was one i could resolve, and i don't have any regrets about how i handled it. in the end, casey hartley mattered to people, no matter what that cult thought. that wasn't something that could ever be taken away. and it never got much traction because i posted it in 2023, and the game came out in 2017. but i'm still glad i did. it turned out really well for a fic i wrote mostly on a red-eye flight at 1 am.

thanks so much for the ask!

#snarky speaks #writing #fanfic #ao3 #ask games #fanfic ask game

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absumoaevum · 1 year

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So here’s what��s up.

I’ve been working on a Dramione fan fiction called Jury of Hearts for about 10 years. I’ve posted it twice, once under the name Atonement and another time under Jury of Hearts. Neither iteration was exactly what I wanted from the story, but it was the best I could do at the time. I didn’t get more than a dozen or so chapters into either of those versions. They just weren’t quite right.

Now, after years away from the fan fiction, I’ve finally got the story how I want it. I’ve written tens of thousands of words in the past month alone. It’s looking really good.

But do people even care anymore? Is there anyone out there who’d be interested in reading the new version?

It’s Dramione 8th Year AU. Drama/mystery/slow burn romance. And it’s ambitious. It’s so ambitious that I’m a little afraid of it.

I’m looking for a beta reader or two to tell me if these chapters I’ve written are worth putting out into the world. If that’s you, let me know.

Thanks for listening.

#dramione #dramione fanfiction #dramione fan fiction #Dramione fanfic #dhrfic

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francesminos-tt · 9 months

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Our actions, our regrets.

“What changed?” Daeron asked.

“Not your business, Uncle.” Joffrey snapped. Where did this boldness come suddenly? He had no idea. “What I want from you is obvious. The question is, what do you want from me?”

“Slow down, Dragon,” Daeron said. “I want to know. You looked like you wanted to punch me, and now you are here.”

Joffrey thought about telling Daeron everything, but why would he care? Daeron's family was one of the reasons for the disgrace of Joffrey's family. He never cared in all these years. “I decided my pride did not worth 300.000 dollars.”

“Get to the point. What can I do for you? Be mine, what does that mean? Do you wanna marry me?” Joffrey said. Daeron laughed humorlessly. He stopped and considered for a while.

“I want to fuck you. I want to have you.” Daeron said in a quiet voice.

“Fine. For how long?” Joffrey says through clenched teeth.

“A year.” “Half blood valerian, brown eyes, beautiful curls, nice body... Yes, a prostitute in your calibre would cost a thousand dollars a night. So, yes, roughly a year.”

Joffrey turned his gaze to the ground. He felt so humiliated and disgusted with himself.

"Look at me, nephew," said Daeron. Daeron dropped his hand to Joffrey's chest as their eyes met.

Daeron smiled. "I have two rules. Number one. Professional life and private life must be kept separate. Don't expect me to favor you because you're my nephew or my whore." He removed his hand from Joffrey's grip. "Rule number two: you don't disobey me."

Hi, anon! Following is my vision of their first time. Hope you enjoy it. It’s not betaed so I apologize for any mistakes!

When Joffrey stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a nightgown, he shivered from the cold. The air-conditioner in the penthouse was in full force, making the temperature so low that goosebumps began to creep up Joffrey’s arms.

Daeron was nowhere to be seen. Joffrey bit his lower lip, his fingers tightening around the metal collar in his hand. Daeron had instructed him to take a shower and put the collar on after Joffrey showed up in the penthouse. Joffrey looked over his shoulder, taking a final look at the pile of clothes he left in the bathroom, shabby sweatshirt and a pair of baggy jeans. Joffrey knew there would be no turning back if he put the collar on. His identity, his dignity, his pride, would all be taken from him. He would truly become Daeron’s whore.

Joffrey shivered again. He closed his eyes for a moment before walking towards the study, where he could hear some faint keyboard sound from.

Compared to Joffrey’s near nakedness, Daeron was dressed handsomely. He was in his usual business attire, crisply ironed button-down shirt, light purple tie that matched his eyes and a pair of dragon cufflinks. He looked up from his laptop and frowned at Joffrey’s appearance.

“I told you to put the collar on.” Daeron said coldly.

Joffrey clenched the collar, the pointed metal heads embedding in his palm.

“What’s the No.2 rule we’ve agreed on?” Daeron leaned back in his chair, “If you are not willing to cooperate, I will have to deduct your payment today. Say, 100 dollars off.”

“It’s not fair!” Joffrey spoke for the first time tonight.

“200.” Daeron sneered, “One more word and it’s 300. Now put the collar on and get to work, Joffrey. The money won’t come by itself.”

Joffrey had no choice but to obey. He put the black leather around his neck clumsily, the sharp metal cutting open his finger, leaving a small red stain on the collar.

“Come.” Daeron let Joffrey settle between his legs as he cupped the brunette’s face in his palm, “Now, tell me, have you sucked cock before?”

Joffrey shook his head.

“Well, you will tonight.” Daeron pushed Joffrey’s face to his crotch, “Be good and warm my cock with your mouth when I am attending a conference call.”

A musky scent invaded Joffrey’s nostril. He was not lying; he had never sucked another man’s cock. Why would he? He was no whore. With trembling hands, Joffrey unzipped Daeron’s pants, taking out the blonde’s soft cock.

Daeron’s cock showed no sign of arousal, as if a naked Joffrey between his legs was not enough to arouse Daeron’s interest. Joffrey swallowed as he gently stroked Daeron’s cock a few times before taking it into his mouth.

Joffrey didn’t dare to suck immediately. He took some time to get used to the feeling of cock in his mouth, the softness of its tip brushing against the back of his throat. Daeron’s cock tasted like fresh shower gel and salty sweat. Joffrey had no idea what to do, so he just took a wild guess and ran his tongue over the tip of Daeron’s cock. That was what he would have liked if he was the one being blown.

Daeron said something to the headphone, something about a mis-calculated number in the cash flow statement. His voice was so calm that no one would have guessed that Daeron was having his cock sucked. Daeron kept one his hand on the back of Joffrey’s head, threading his fingers in the thick curls, scratching, tugging and rubbing, playing with Joffrey’s hair as if he was playing with a puppy.

Joffrey had no idea how much time had passed. He forced himself to concentrate on sucking, the only way to keep his mind present. He kept telling himself that he was no longer Joffrey, just a warm hole for Daeron’s cock.

“Enough.” Daeron ended the conference call and pushed Joffrey away, “You are a shit cock sucker, Joff. I am disappointed.”

Joffrey landed on his butt. He kept his head down, too ashamed to look up. He had made a fool of himself. His jaw was covered in drool and pre-cum, his lips swollen and his cheeks sore from all the sucking. Daeron’s cock dangled between his legs, half-hard and covered in Joffrey’s saliva.

“Speak.” Daeron demanded as he pulled Joffrey’s collar, forcing the brunette to look at him in the eye, “I didn’t hire a mute, did I?”

“I thought you didn’t want to hear me.” Joffrey replied, shameful tears threatening to slide down his cheek, “You said you would deduct 300 dollars from my payment if I said one more word.”

Daeron’s eyes narrowed, but he remained silent for a moment.

“Playing smart, are you?” Daeron pulled Joffrey up by his collar, before pinning the brunette on the pristine working desk, “Your mouth is hopeless. Let’s see if your other hole would be better.”

Joffrey let out a surprised squeal as Daeron flipped him over, spread his legs and pushed one finger in without warning. Joffrey’s breath caught from the sudden intrusion. Even though he had prepared himself as best as he could, the pain and the humiliation made him tremble miserably.

“You are loose.” Daeron observed, “Did you prepare yourself?”

“Y-yes.” Joffrey chocked, his legs shaking, the tears finally breaking free.

“How? Tell me.” Daeron pushed in another finger and began to scissor, his other hand pulling Joffrey’s collar, suffocating the poor brunette.

“I-in the shower, with my fingers,” Joffrey struggled to voice his words because the collar had become too tight around his neck, “a-and lube.”

Daeon laughed as he nibbled Joffrey’s pink ear. He soon replaced his fingers with his cock, finally in full arousal. Joffrey’s tears excited him, filling him with the satisfaction that he had conquered a strong-willed warrior.

“This hole is not too bad.” Daeron said before beginning to thrust.

Joffrey screamed in pain as his hole was stretched to its limit, Daeron’s cock invading him mercilessly, opening him up like an explorer discovering a new land. No matter how well he had prepared himself, it was still not enough. Daeron was too cruel, too demanding, too merciless that Joffrey wished he had never agreed to such arrangements.

Daeron kept fucking him with passion. Joffrey could do nothing but whine, submitting himself to Daeron completely. Joffrey heard some rustling sound before feeling something thin pressed on his back.

Joffrey tried to look back, but Daeron wouldn’t allow him. Fortunately, the pressure was gone as quickly as it had appeared. A piece of paper was pushed into Joffrey’s blurred vision.

“Here. Your check, Joffrey. Take it.”

Take it? How? Joffrey’s arms were twisted back, so he couldn’t use his hands. The only thing he could now was his mouth, still wet and swollen from the blow session. Joffrey realized soon enough that Daeron meant for him to take the check with his mouth.

Joffrey obeyed. He took the check between his teeth, careful not to stain it with the overflowing saliva.

“Good boy.” Daeron whispered in his ear.

#house of the dragon #joffron #hotd #daeron x joffrey #my asks #joffrey velaryon #daeron the daring

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beggingwolf · 6 months

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I came across this tiktok and it gave me something to chew on

I fully agree with the critism of newer published (some self-, some traditional) authors being too sensitive to critique of their works—I've heard the stories, I've seen the ranting goodreads posts haha—but I was definitely left with something to consider about the "culture of niceness" commentary regarding fandom

that's arguably how I operate in fandom spaces these days, ESPECIALLY around fanworks. "say something nice or say nothing at all" was, to me, the acceptable way to interact with passion projects people were doing for free. it's interesting to hear someone push back against that mindset and actively miss days of fan critique!

like, I don't know... part of me is like "if I got someone thoughtfully wording constructive criticism, isn't that a growth opportunity?" as if I wouldn't immediately be put off and affronted by someone leaving critique in the comments of a fic of mine hahaha.

I think I don't have a particularly thick creative skin, and that's definitely a result of my fandom upbringing. hell, even when I was writing crackfic as a tween for twilight, I never got critique for it. I've gotten very few comments that could ever been construed as critque, and I think I've never gotten one that was outright hateful... which is good?

but I do see the pipeline there of "fic writers participating in a culture that only validates and never critiques" to "people who cut their writing teeth on fic who are now unused to dealing with varying opinions on their work".

I do think it's worth saying that I don't think fic should inherently be held to the same standards as published books—lord knows I've dashed off a couple thousands words and slapped them onto ao3 without so much as a second glance—but I think we also should be conscientious of not trying to have our cake and eat it too.

I'm reminded of those really annoying comments online where people are like "i'Ve ReAd FiCs BeTtEr ThAn AnY pUbLiShEd BoOks" and I just go...... okay well if it can be treated as serious literature (which... maybe it can!) then it needs to be able to withstand critique, and we do not have a current culture of critique in fandom to actually put those very good fics to the proverbial test. you know??

this isn't to say I think we should start a reading salon where everyone can loudly proclaim "I HATE THIS ONE FIC" or whatever but it's a complicated dynamic that I believe I have traditionally left unturned because I figured niceness is better than unsolicited critique. and also I don't really derive joy from offering someone unasked-for feedback and potentially ruining their night haha.

I DO get a lot of joy from working with my friends in a beta capacity and being able to really dig in and offer up a harsher look at stuff, AND I think I like receiving it (when I am in the right mindset to do so, as we all have nights where it's like "JUST READ FOR GRAMMAR, I CAN'T TAKE ANY PLOT HOLES POINTED OUT TO ME RIGHT NOW!" haha), but I like receiving it from people who I am DIRECTLY ASKING and whose opinions I already respect and value. getting critique from strangers is an entirely different skillset that has to be practiced, and you have to know when to start filtering out opinions because You Can't Please Everyone

anyways this has been a lot of words to say that I have complicated feelings about a "culture of niceness" in fandom and while I certainly know I ENJOY participating in a culture of niceness, there are downsides (see: people dogpiling anyone who in the FAINTEST WAY POSSIBLE does not precisely conform to the-never-critique-fic attitude) and it's good to at least think about alternate ways to do fandom/alternate ways in which fandom has BEEN done in the past

#also the funniest thing about this is I know the fics referenced in the video. I read them for the first time like a month ago or something #and I agree with the person who got flamed lol I really only liked one fic/segment out of the entire series #anywho! interesting things to talk about

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princessmisery666 · 2 years

Text

Your Fanboy

Summary: They say a picture is worth a thousand words, Mickey only needs three.

Warnings/Tropes: past toxic relationship mentioned (mental abuse, cheating), love confession, fluff, friends to lovers, body consciousness, self-consciousness.

W/C: 1.7k

Characters: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia, female reader (she/her)

Pairing: Fanboy x fem!reader (YN/she/her- no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

A/N: A conversation in our discord server led to this, I cannot thank @therebeccaw enough for letting me run with her idea.

Betas: @writercole // @therebeccaw

Graphics: @therebeccaw made the beautiful title card // @writercole made the divider.

Master Lists: Top Gun Maverick // All The Fandoms

Your Fanboy

Mickey snapped a shot of Y/N, watching as her confidence grew each time the shutter clicked. The one piece swimsuit looked elegant and hugged her figure in all the places he wanted to touch. She was beauty personified, inside and out, which explained why he’d fallen for her all those years ago. Not that she was aware of that fact.

Y/N needed some professional photos taken to enter a local beauty contest - the grand prize was twenty thousand dollars and she could really use the money.

“Of course I’ll do it,” Mickey said, excitedly and without hesitation when she’d asked. “I’m always looking for beautiful subjects to photograph.”

She shied away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She loved his enthusiasm and his pictures were stunning so she knew she was in good hands.

It wasn’t the first time he’d called her beautiful and it certainly wouldn’t be the last but her reaction always stumped him. “Why do you do that?” he asked, softly lifting her face to meet his eyes. “You are beautiful, Y/N, and I’m honored you want me to be the one to capture it. But why do you retreat into yourself whenever I tell you that?”

“You know why.”

He did know why. He’d been the one to pick up the pieces when the reason, Derek, crashed into her heart like a semi-truck filled with other lovers.

The sun reflected off the pool, highlighting her face and he yelled, “don’t move!”

She laughed, eyes crinkling and he knew before he even checked the photo it’d be one he’d print and stick to the dash of his jet. She was as magnificent and breath-taking as a sunrise at thirty thousand feet. He only wished she believed it when he told her, he told her a lot, and didn’t plan on stopping until she believed him.

He approaches her, snapping pictures with every step, tilting the camera and playing with the light. She tries a few different poses, pouts, blows a kiss at the camera, and the world seems to fall silent. She’s flirting with the camera, but it feels like it’s directed at him.

His jeans get a little tighter and he dares to move closer for fear of drawing attention to the effect she has on him. He’s a few steps away and she giggles, “I feel stupid.” before ducking under the camera and coming to a stop an inch from his face. “I feel ridiculous.”

“Don’t,” he says, so close his breath fans hairs from her cheek. “You’re stunning.”

The turmoil of doubt and disbelief dances over her face, she presses a chaste kiss to his cheek, averting her gaze. “I could use a drink,” she sighs, stepping away and grabbing the button down shirt he discarded earlier.

Mickey sets the camera on the tripod and groans as he watches her slide her arms through the sleeves.

“I’m sorry, I just grabbed it, I’ll find a robe or something,” she apologizes as she moves to take it off.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls, jumping closer and stops her from moving. “That wasn’t a bad groan,” he confesses, biting his lip he considers how to say it without making her feel uncomfortable. “You’re far too gorgeous to hide everything you’ve got goin’ on, but,” he chuckles and his eyes involuntarily drop to his bulging jeans. “It looks good on you, too good.”

She follows his eyes and laughs, bringing her gaze back up. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Mickey,” she whispers, sheepishly.

The raspy tone of his name on her lips is like a siren song, pulling him deeper into the depths of his hidden feelings.

He grins broadly, “Well if you’re feeling confident maybe we should get the bedroom shots while the sun sets. It’ll give us good, natural light.”

She inhales deeply but nods once before stepping around him and disappearing inside.

She shouldn’t be this nervous. But her palms are sweating and butterflies keep dancing around her stomach, threatening to leap up to her throat. The mirror is being kind for a change. She feels good, her make-up looks immaculate, her hair styled the way she wanted, and the lingerie fits perfectly.

So why does the thought of opening the bathroom door fill her with breathtaking anxiety? Mickey is waiting for her. That’s why. But this had been her idea, she can’t back out now.

She shakes her hands trying to shake off the nervous energy. They’d spent the day taking photos of her in different locations, outfits and lighting. Mickey had put her at ease, they’d goofed around and he even made himself the subject of a few shots to help her relax. But this was different.

What if she went out there and Mickey saw her, really saw her and he didn’t think she was beautiful anymore? What if he saw the reasons why Derek felt the need to go elsewhere?

Mickey waited patiently on the bed, aware that they were losing the natural light but not wanting to rush her. He knew today hadn’t been easy for Y/N. She was only entering the contest to get enough money to get away from Derek, and she was too prideful to take him up on his proposal of moving in with him until she found her own place or the money he’d offered her.

Derek had really done a number on her. She hadn’t been able to see it, even before she found out about the cheating. Derek wasn’t good for her. He knocked her down, again and again. She used to love herself and was so confident. Now everyone’s on a pedestal, but she’s on a shelf. Emotionally comatose, overthinking or underwhelmed by everything, there was no middle ground.

Mickey got a glimpse of the old her today. He’d like to think he was part of the reason and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do whatever it takes to get her back to how she used to be.

He raps lightly on the bathroom door, “Hey, Y/N, I don’t wanna rush you but we’re losing light.”

“Yeah,” her voice croaks and she clears it before adding, “give me a second.”

“Okay,” he says and walks to lean against the wall facing the door, camera at the ready. Some candid shots could be cool.

He turns his head to look out the window wondering if he should close the curtains a little, add a little atmosphere with the setting sun, and play with some shadows. The lock disengages and he turns his attention back. He’s not sure if it's the fast movement or the sight before him that makes him lightheaded.

He can feel his jaw touching the floor but he can’t pick it up. Holy shit. He checks the camera’s focus and presses the button, his smile growing impossibly wide as he looks up at her.

She’s frozen to the spot, holding onto the door, light haloing behind her. She’s an angel amongst mortals and he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to be alive at this very moment. He’s witnessing something magical, at least that’s what it feels like. He doesn’t care how goofy or overly proud his smile is, she’s exquisite and she’s trusted him with capturing it forever. As it should be.

“Is it too much?” she asks and her arms automatically cradle her stomach and cover her cleavage.

The question and reaction make his blood run cold, and he hates that she even thought it let alone aired it aloud.

“Not at all. It’s perfect, you’re perfect.”

She groans, shaking her head and it’s his limit. He can’t take it anymore.

“Y/N, you have to stop!” he demands, harsher than intended but it's what she needs to give him her full attention. “Stop blaming yourself. You're not to blame for what he did. You’ve had no real example of what love is, and what you had with him was not love.”

Tears pool in her eyes and she looks to the ceiling to stop them from falling. He gives her a minute to best them and waits until she’s looking at him once again.

“How can you understand something you’ve never had? I can help you with that.”

“What are you talking about, Mickey?”

“You’ve never been able to see just how amazing you are, and part of that is on me, I guess,” he starts, taking a breath before he continues. “I’ve been such an idiot for so long -”

“Yeah, I know that much,” she scoffs playfully.

“No, you don’t understand. No one has ever been enough for me or right for me because it’s you. It’s always been you.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, walking toward her, dropping the camera on the bed as he strides over. He cups her cheeks, drawing her closer and presses his lips to her. To his delight she kisses him back, melting into him, hands gripping his waist and tugging him closer.

“I love Y/N, and if you let me, I’m going to love you until you learn to love yourself again.”

“I had no idea you saw me like that,” she whispers against his lips.

“I didn’t think I was that good at hiding it.” He shakes his head, chuckling, “you were the first person I was ever a fan of, I’ve been your Fanboy since the beginning.”

She looks away again and he’s slightly panicked that he’s said the wrong thing, but he mostly knows it’s the aftermath of Derek chipping away at her confidence.

“So, am I way off base here?” he asks, a hint of worry etched in his furrowed brow.

“Not even close,” she assures him, tightening her grip on him. “I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since the day we met, Mickey, and as much as I’ve tried to deny or ignore it, it’s never worked.”

“Well, now that that’s settled,” he smirks, his hands trailing down her arms and pulling her towards the bed, “we can get this photoshoot done.”

“I don’t know if -”

“Oh, you’re not submitting them for the contest,” he interrupts quickly, “these are for me. And for you, to remind you how gorgeous you are. And when you move in, I’m gonna tell you every morning when we wake up and every night before we go to sleep.”

Feedback delights the muses and makes the time and effort put into writing this worth it. Likes/Comments/Gif Reactions/Reblogs/Keyboard smashes are all appreciated. ❤️💖

Master Lists: Top Gun Maverick // All The Fandoms

#mickey fanboy garcia #fanboy #top gun maverick #fanboy x reader #fanboy x female reader #reader insert #fanboy x you #mickey garcia #fanboy fluff #fluff

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mikki-does-simp · 8 months

Text

Words aren't worth shit. (Kuroiro Shihai x GN!reader)

surprise you guys, i came back from my grave for the kajillionth time! frankly, i'm slightly sick of interacting with almost of the MHA fandom, but my love for 1B seems to never ever waver, so i'll try my very best to stick to more longform fanfiction and post more-often so that the people who deserve it have actual content.

A/N: i wrote this in literally two adjacent blocks starting at 1AM and ending around 5 AM with a sleep from 4-4:30, so forgive any flow inconsistences or grammar/spelling mistakes because i say fuck the beta

edit: actually never mind next time i will appreciate a beta run more i left so many spaces that were just- *unfilled*

socially awkward kuroiro AND tactical manipulator kuroiro CAN co-exist, it just has to be written in a very specific way, though. despite that, with you, he feels like a cat covered in wet spaghetti, but like, in a good way.

Who the hell came up with the saying "a picture is worth a thousand words"? Or hell, who altered it to have it to relate an action? Kuroiro didn't really seem to convince himself of it, no matter how hard he tried. It wasn't like he was indifferent to works of art- after all, he considered himself a sort of artistic guy... but when it came to a flash, a picture in his mind, a memory- usually it only took up about thirteen words in his mind. He considered himself a writer. Dare he say a poet. He kept piles upon piles of journals of his writing, and where people could not suffice, pen and paper were his greatest confidants. As much as he liked pencils, pens were just- ironically more artistic; even if he had to scribble at the paper if he misspelled a word or accidentally placed the lettering way too close.

He clenched a few papers between his hands, skimming over the writing as he stood in wait for what might be a pinnacle moment of his life. There were too many mistakes in his mind- so many scribbles it seemed like a quarter of each page was just a section or a word, blacked out in ink. He sighed, inwardly admitting that staying up until two am in the morning writing this was a terrible idea it's not like the author is doing the EXACT same thing down to the hour, but he could just not wait. Thoughts seemed to be always running through his head at light speed, from dawn to dusk and in between his dreams like a sickness of his. This is when he started to pace around with the pages in his hand, having to really mentally prepare himself for what he set up on what seemed to be the first impromptu thought of his entire life so far.

Kuroiro had somehow deluded himself so hard that he decided that he was going to profess his feelings for you within the next moment. Or at the very least, his fond admiration for your pieces, large or small that create the entire puzzle. He had slipped a piece of plain notebook paper under your door, even; that's how casual he tried to seem about it, as it could mean a lot of different things under different connotations if you ask someone to meet you. It wasn't a fancy sort of greeting or letter like he would have spent countless hours imagining he would, but it would make due. His pen and paper were becoming restless in it's own right, sick of hearing the same thought in a different variant over and over and over again. He had decided to meet you about fifteen minutes before the dormitory curfew, as to both make it less inconvenient for you and to make sure he had an escape route if anything went wrong. Yet again, his mind seems to be in a race with everything around it, dreaming up every possibility. Every triumph, every pitfall. The churns in his stomach grew more intense as he began to doubt himself,

It didn't take too long for you to meet him, with the casually dressed notebook paper folded in one of your hands. You pocketed it, then closed the gap of distance between you and Kuroiro, standing in front of him with a curious look to the papers in his hand- and how he looked like how he was going to vomit up a hairball. It raised some eyebrows, sure; but you seemed to understand his nature- his mannerisms, his idiosyncrasies: you seemed to accept them as they were, with no complaints otherwise about who he was. Human. A breath of fresh air for a guy like him, really. He didn't even greet you properly for a moment, already seeming to clam up, enamored by your beauty. It took a couple seconds for him to actually remember why he brought the two of you here- but when he did, he slowly looked to the writing in front of him, starting to read it out. Unfortunately for you, it was incredibly difficult to decipher what he was actually saying- he used so many elusive synonyms that the average person wouldn't be familiar with in terms of linguistics, and he would often go back to read a part if he messed it up, or pause for a moment to try and figure out what he was trying to say himself. The more and more he talked, the more Kuroiro realized this the sole brainless idea he had in a very long time- at least in his book, so out of some sort of shame, he started getting quieter as he read. His posture crumpled up more than it was before, and he was mumbling so badly, that it was even hard for him to hear the words that were spewing out of his mouth as he tried to read back He dropped the small stack of papers, much to your confusion; then, much to his incredible embarrassment, he felt his legs start to buckle despite himself as he kneeled to the floor, covering his face with his hands and starting to mumble a little louder about how incredibly awkward this situation was and that you should just forget it ever happened. He couldn't anymore, everything seemed to catch up to him in his incredulity...

You kneeled down to the floor with him, starting to pick up the papers for him. His hand reflexively moved to instantly snatch the papers from you- to hide away and confide yet again in the caverns of pen and paper- but he stops himself, opting to ball his hand into a fist to do so as he starts on an attempt to quell his mild panicked breathing. He felt so... soppy. Dare he say even- pathetic in a way. It took a moment, but he eventually found the strength to look you in the eye, and they lock, the watercolor to his monochrome. You pick up the rest of the pages, and even if it is incredibly messy and out of order, you remember how he reached to grab them from you, and although it confused you on why he would do that, you respected him too much to pry; in a state where he was cracking on all sides of a sphere, where he looked so oddly vulnerable. If you weren't too preoccupied with being concerned about the way he was acting, it would have felt good, about how he seemed to trust you being within this state

"Hey..." you interjected, slowly starting to offer both your held papers; and your free outstretched hand over to Kuroiro, "Take the time you need. You'll find a way to say what you need to say... and I'll flag you down with signals so it won't- get lost within the waters."

You had sort of an idea what was happening- but you could ask for more context later, as Kuroiro seemed a little too nervewracked to answer your questions. He took the both of you off guard, as he shuffled a little closer, his own arms beginning to outstretch as he simply took your simple outstretched gesture to wrap his arms around you in a shakey but gentle embrace. In that very moment, he couldn't believe it but... no words could describe what he felt. He almost lost himself in trying to figure it out, but at the same time, you quelled the tide all the same as you held each-other there.

#mha 1b #bhna x reader #class 1b #mha #bhna #shihai kuroiro #x reader fluff #fanfic #writing #x reader #bhna fanfiction #bhna imagine #mikki fluffpost

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justatinybunwriting · 9 months

Text

Playing with Fire 3

<<Previous chapter

Chapter 3: Orange

Word of the strange firebird that ascended towards the heavens had quickly spread far among the residents of the forest. Murmurs among the flock of the equally peculiar man who was the cause of this phenomenon had soon reached the ears of the Alpha Wile. The thought of what this could imply had become a pressing matter that trickled in the back of his mind, yet the ruler needed more evidence before any course of action could be implemented. His only option was to lie in wait, as he forwarded a task to his trusted lieutenant.

"See to it that you will bring this so-called, magician to me. I would like to have a, word with him."

Rikuo's voice was calm, yet Goro understood that it was a firm and direct order. The smaller Tengu bowed his head dutifully.

"Aye sir. Leave it to me."

Using Jac's tree hollow home as a haven, the witch and her Beta Wile friend had spent many days offering much needed provisions and support for their new guest. Goro loaned the magician some of his energy, doing so by covering him under his down much like that of a nesting mother. Other unorthodox methods were also used over time, such as skin remedies made of mud and other odd spells, which had greatly helped in speeding up the healing process. By the time of the new moon, Aiden had already recovered quite considerably. He still struggled to lift himself and was slower of pace, but he was rejuvenating faster than what would normally be possible even when putting magic into consideration.

One fateful morning, Jac walked into the magician's room with a basket of goodies in hand. She was surprised to see that Aiden was already on his feet, preparing a wizard robe that had likely been repaired by his own magic. When questioned, the magician merely replied. "I must be going soon. I don't want to burden you for too much longer."

"You're leaving? Why?"

"There's a whole wide world out there, full of people who would love to see my performances! I can't stay put for too long, for a great magician needs to spread his talents far and wide! My audience awaits--"

"You can't be serious!" Jac cuts in. "Remember what they did to you back there?"

"Yeah..." Aiden mumbled, though he perked back up right after. "But the world, Jac! Think about it! I could travel to different villages across the vast plains and beyond the ocean yonder... And I can put on one show after another after another and bedazzle the crowd with my infernal crafts! I can picture it now..."

As he spoke these words, he began to immerse himself in the whimsy of his thoughts, as if he was proudly standing on stage with thousands of people seated around him. The various moments of his tricks had bled out into reality, as he waved his hands and spun around in a sort of trance. He was humming a little tune to top it off. To this display, Jac could only shake her head.

"You expect things will be different? If you ask me, I don't think it's worth the risk of dodging the human enforcers at every corner! You could wind up seriously hurt again! Or..."

"Relax, I've survived this long!" Aiden said as he continued his dance. "I'll be a-okay! Don't swea--"

Suddenly the magician involuntary swung his foot forward, which snagged on his cape and caused him to nearly tumble. Had it not been for the armrest he had clung onto he would have fallen face flat on the wooden floor. Frazzled and a bit confuddled, Aiden was pulled up by Jac as she began to walk him to the very bed he dreaded ever going back to.

"You certainly don't look like you're in any shape to be traveling far yet!" Jac remarked. "C'mon now, your body still needs rest! I don't think it'll hurt to stay for little bit longer."

Aiden grew crestfallen, though he was good at hiding it from his friend. The magician was rather frustrated at himself, for deep down he sorely wished to be free of the doldrums that came with staying in the same room for the past half month or so. He could have sworn that he had healed so much faster in the past. He turned his head towards the hollow window and sighed. He wanted more than anything at this moment to soak in a little sunshine, at the very least.

"I won't leave yet, but... if I may be honest? A change of scenery would be nice..." Aiden finally said. "Will it be alright if I stepped out for a bit of fresh air at least?"

"If your body is up to the task, then I don't see why not. We can go about this one step at a time." Jac gave it some thought, before her eyes lifted up wide. "Oh! And when you're feeling better, I could give you a tour of the entire forest if you'd like! There are landmarks and all sorts of places we could visit! Like the Umbra Falls. Solemn Peak has a lovely view in the springtime. Or how about--"

Aiden could only give out a sigh in response. The magician could tell that Jac perked right up when the prospect of showing him around as addressed. She was already treating him like a formal citizen of the forest, despite not knowing if the other residents would take kindly to him, not that he planned to stay long enough to find out. It really seemed like she was enthusiastic over wanting him to stay for more than just the safety reason that was given. It didn't surprise him if the monotony had gotten to her too.

The fresh forest air greeted them when they walked out of the tree hollow door, and the magician basked in the soft rays that tried their best to penetrate through the thick groves above. Aiden was carefully taking his time, with Jac staying one step behind him to ensure no stumbles would be repeated on the path. Despite this they did manage to walk a good ways through the wood, with Aiden's stride steadily growing stronger with every step. Indeed, this was just what he needed.

As they trekked, they continued to talk about a multitude of little things, from magic to nature, and of life itself. Their chatter was the one bright spot that got Aiden through the turbulence of the last few days, one that he greatly appreciated. Soon the topic of socializing came about, which gave the magician the chance to prove if his hunches were correct.

"Do you miss it? Being able to... connect with people, and travel anywhere you want?"

"Hell no!" Jac scoffed. "I'm done with all of that, especially after the hell I went through before I arrived here. So no thanks! This place is as close to a real life paradise as it gets! You have all the food you can eat, you never get cold or hot, it's like a dream come true!"

"But..." Aiden looked around and subtly pointed out how eerily quiet it was. Not a single chirp or sound. "...Doesn't it get lonely?"

That seemingly innocuous question caught the witch off guard. "N-no!" Jac stuttered, before she collected herself again. "I have... I have the Wiles! Goro is the nicest person I've ever met. And... um..." Aiden blinked a few times as Jac placed a hand under her chin. "Hm... A-sushi is... unreadable. I don't know him that well. Soju is, ok... Haru is an asshole. Richard is worse... yet somehow better? It's hard to explain..."

As she was struggling with that, Aiden put his hands behind his head and chuckled. "Maybe this works best for you... you can be happy here, and free. But for me? My life is out there! I am a wanderer at heart. And I have a mission I must fulfill."

"A mission?" Jac questioned.

Aiden took off his hood, revealing the messy orange hair underneath. " Truth is... I don't have animosity against humans, even after what happened. For I know that for a time, humans once embraced magic, and looked up to those of us with the gift of wielding it... The world needs a positive outlook on magic again. Because..." Aiden took a deep breath and gave out a long sigh from his nose.

"If those... fanatics keep having their way, then sooner or later, magic will cease to exist in the world! I can't imagine what our future would be like without it! The world may turn into something... cold... and, unrecognizable..."

Jac looked down on her feet and trembled at the thought herself. "That sounds horrifying... But at least we'll still have the forests! And the mountains and caves and other fae havens. So long as there are good places like this, I'm sure magic will continue to thrive!"

"If these battles keep happening, then I'm not so sure.." Aiden sighed. "That's why I took it upon myself... to be that someone who can show them the truth even with the risks involved. If I can make at least a little bit of a difference with my performances, even if I merely change the hearts of a few, then... it will still be worth it for me."

Just then, the sound of cracking bark could be heard nearby. Aiden was rattled enough to stop on his tracks, as Jac went in front of him to stand guard. Her stance lessened in a few seconds however, when a familiar giant bird came into view.

"Goro-chan!" Jac exclaimed happily.

The Beta Wile greeted Jac with open wings, though at the same time Aiden chose to keep a considerable distance. Goro's sharp eye could see the timid one clearly as the former gave a cheeky smile.

"I see that you are well enough to be moving on your own, Aiden." He said.

The sorcerer shivered. "Uh... thank you once again for saving me..." his voice grew quieter, "please, I don't need your energy anymore. I'm fine! See?"

Aiden then whipped around with his star patterned cape flowing behind him. He wobbled a bit before he quickly regained his balance, his chin held high throughout. "See? I'm getting better! You reallly don't have to roost next to me like I'm some kind of baby chicken again!"

Goro had to chuckle aloud. "There's no need for that anymore. I can assure you. You should be able to heal on your own from here on out."

"Thank the suns..." Aiden coughed. "I'll admit, that was a bit, humiliating..."

Smiles and laughter swept over everyone's faces, which made Goro even more hesitant to say his next words. He really wanted to give the magician more time, but alas, the master's order took top priority. The Tengu had to give out an abrupt ahem before making his announcement.

"Aiden, the time has come where I must inform you," Goro paused briefly before continuing, "that whenever you are able, our master Rikuo has requested to have an audience with you."

"Oh suns..." Aiden grumbled.

"What?!" Jac yelled. "Why?! This is the first I'm hearing of this!"

"Second time for me actually..." Aiden confessed.

Jac whipped her head to the side. "Seriously? Why didn't you tell me? Is this why you were so bent on leaving?"

"Well!... It's not the only reason, but it's uh.." Aiden shrugged nervously,..."it's why I'm in a hurry, heheh."

"Oh my gawd." Jac fumed. "What the hell does Richard want with him?" She beckoned for Goro to lean closer, which he complied forthwith. She then whispered rather harshly into his ear. "He can't be thinking about eating--"

"Nonono! I highly doubt that!" Goro interrupted. "I believe he just wants to talk this time."

Jac chose to showcase her frustration by folding her arms rather than to explode in a profanity ridden rant, for Aiden's sake. The latter then crept closer to the Beta Wile as he spoke with a slight quiver.

"Will he... take no for an answer? Heheh..."

Goro sighed through his nose and spoke firmly. "I'm afraid we do not have a say on that matter. So long as you remain in this forest, you will have to abide by the command of its ruler."

"To hell with that!!" Jac exclaimed.

"Well!" Aiden said in a slightly higher voice. "I... guess this means I better get a move on after all! Heheh..."

"Aiden no!" Jac exclaimed. "If we have to do this, then Richard will have to go through me first! Trust me, I can handle the guy."

"I, believe you." Aiden replied upfront, though this did nothing to calm his nerves. Jac then took one of his hands and squeezed it tight.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure to not let him lay a single claw on you. He'll be getting a fist full of flames if he tries!"

"...Thanks Jac..." Aiden sighed.

"A fist full of flames, you say?"

The two friends jumped at the sound of that voice, and even Goro was taken by surprise. All of a sudden a strong gust around them whipped across the field in a startling cold snap. Not even a few seconds would pass before their entire view was covered by a massive shadow that zipped overhead. This was followed by a loud and heavy thump that rattled the forest like a small tremor, as a familiar black bird much larger than Goro stood before them with wings spread wide. Jac marched forward with a livid huff as she placed herself between the magician and the enormous king of the forest. The pupils of the monster's eyes were needle sharp, likely caused by reflection of the surrounding light, yet the sight of their menacing gleam had caused Aiden to flinch on the spot nonetheless.

"Hello Jac." The Alpha Wile crooned.

"Richard, why the hell are you here!!" Jac roared.

"First of all, stop calling me that. Second, this is my domain, and I can come and go as I please." As the Alpha spoke, his quaint smile grew ever wider. "I told Goro that I would meet up with our 'guest' if he failed to fetch him by this time."

Goro then bowed in apology, both to his master and simultaneously to Jac for not informing her sooner. The Alpha Wile then turned his attention towards the magician who feebly hid himself behind the witch.

"So this is the little fire bird." The Alpha Wile spoke with a cat like voice. "Why don't you be a good little... man and come closer?"

"Over my dead body!!" Jac intervened.

As the Alpha Wile stepped forward, Jac made sure to stand in his way. Size made no difference in her stance, for she was still effective at putting some distance between the two. The monster bird gave his most placid expression, returning Jac's frown with a warm grin. The witch was used to that look however.

"I can assure you, Jac, that I will not hurt him." The leader of the Tengu Wiles said softly. "The new arrival is not a mere human, far from that in fact. That automatically makes him, well... free from my wrath."

Jac still wasn't convinced. Meanwhile, Aiden was given enough time to take a few breaths as he slowly calmed himself to a more manageable level. It still pained him that he had to go along with whatever the Alpha had planned for him, but he had already accepted that the opportunity to sneak out of this mess had long since passed. It was best to get it done and over with, even if it meant he had to suck in as much courage as he could handle up to this point.

As Jac had done to him prior, Aiden expressed his gratitude and his willingness to stand up for himself by gently squeezing the witch's left hand.

"It's okay." He said. "I believe him... I, can handle this."

Jac continued to cautiously leer at the black feathered fiend, although her stance had mellowed somewhat. "You promise you won't do nothing. No funny business, all right?"

The Alpha Wile grew silent for a few seconds before replying. "You have my word."

Jac continued to stand on guard for a moment longer, though it was ultimately Aiden who made the first move by walking away from her cover. Whether his decision to approach the Alpha Wile was a brave or foolish one, the magician knew not. Despite how he felt, that it was now or never.

"Okay... I think I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

The Alpha's smile had spread ever wider, and made for an unsettling look.

"I knew you'd come around."

****

The interview took place at the heart of the Wile's base, deep within the tunnels where the king's nest resided. The other Wiles of the flock had all gathered within the shadowy corridors, ready to assist at their Alpha's beck and call. Most of them chose to distance themselves as they gazed upon the sorcerer warily, with at least one of the Beta Wiles apprehensively raising the feathers on his back in a fight or flight response. Goro was given the order to hold Jac back with a wing claw in his own corner of the tunnel; while far removed, the witch maintained a sharp eye on the much too large avian throughout the interrogation. No matter how convincing his sweet talk was, she knew Richard still had a wild side to him.

At first the master Tengu craned his neck to scan the magician front and back, which did not help to keep the latter's nervousness in control.

"What happened here?" Rikuo gasped lightly. "That is a nasty seal..."

Aiden gulped as the Alpha looked him straight in the eyes. "What shall I call you?"

"If... I may be selfish, this once... I can't give away my name so readily, sir..." the magician tried his best to suppress his trembling. "B-basic wizard rule."

"Fair enough." Rikuo replied. "'Thou are to not give out thy name, lest thou be easily manipulated through means of enchantment.' I am well aware of that law. So then, how shall I address you?"

Aiden took a moment to steel himself before he put on his stage moxie. He took in a deep breath, and within a few seconds, his eyes opened revealing a level of confidence he had not shown before. With a wave of his cape and a bow, he spoke from his chest without wavering.

"I am... known as the great pyromancer! A magician of the infernal arts! Yet I am but a humble showman, and my passion is to capture the hearts of people around the world as I bedazzle and enrich them with the wonders of my fiery spells!"

"How interesting." Was Rikuo's response. "May I ask you to share a demonstration of your talents?"

Aiden's eyes darted swiftly between his hands and the monster bird as a slight hint of fear darted over his head. But just was those feelings sought to overwhelm him, the magician took another deep breath and used this momentum to do as he was told. A smoke-less fireball then magically appeared that hovered just above the sorcerer's index finger. He flung it in the air as he gracefully maneuvered it to dance between his arms like that of a will-o-the-wisp, all the while the Alpha Wile remained silent as he carefully took in the wondrous sight.

As I suspected... a master of his craft...

Throughout this conversation, alarm horns had already sounded off in Jac's head. She was familiar with Richard enough to know he was not the type to be charmed by flashy stunts, magic or otherwise. And on top of this, his speech here seemed... off.

"What are you plotting?" Jac muttered.

Goro's ear was close enough to hear her admittedly valid reaction, to which he gave out a short sigh in response. Jac raised an eyebrow to him accusingly.

"Do you know something?" The witch whispered.

Goro said nothing in the first half minute, before he finally answered. "I... believe it's time you learn that Aiden is, not what he seems."

At the same time, Aiden's fireballs had increased to ten as he began to juggle them with relative ease. This dazzling spectacle reached its climax in a few minutes time, however not in the way the magician expected. One by one the flames fizzled out, with only a single fire remaining. Aiden's head was drenched in sweat, but he still had momentum to take a bow as proper.

"I could show more," said the magician, as he briefly gasped for air, "but I still need more time to recover it seems, heheh.."

Rikuo looked upon the pyromancer with calculating eyes before he gave out a slightly unnerving smirk.

"Perhaps I can help you with that." He replied cryptically.

At his master's call, Souji swooped down to present a wooden stick before returning to the shadows as swiftly as he arrived. Rikuo took it by the wing claw and brought it up close to Aiden's face.

"Tell me now, does this look familiar?"

Aiden tilted his head in confusion as he gazed at the staff of burned wood, but after a moment his eyelids shot up wide. The sorcerer then took the last fireball above his fingertip and carefully placed it on top, which instantly caused that part of the stick to bloom into life like a small, fiery flower. Warm and delicate, and oddly familiar.

"What is this...?" Aiden gasped. "Normally my fire should engulf it completely..."

Rikuo smiled. "Indeed. Would it surprise you that a human came with this torch in hand? Such dubious circumstances really. It was as if fate had gifted me with the acquisition of such a profound magical artifact. One that actually holds the key..."

The master Tengu then closed in until his head was just beside the magician's body. His whispers were as soft as rain, yet as dark as twilight.

"...to your awakening."

The very essence of these words had caused the temperature in Aiden's head to drop a few degrees. His tried his damndest to speak as his heartbeat intensified, but not a single sound would escape the magician's mouth. This gave the Alpha ample opportunity to snake talk.

"There's no sense in hiding it anymore... The might of your internal flame, the power of what it chooses to burn... indeed you are more than just a mere magician." The feathered fiend slowly coiled his neck to surround the trembling sorcerer as he continued. "Tell me, great 'pyromancer', do you recall spreading your wings and souring to the highest of heights? Does your fiery soul wish to burn even brighter than the nearest star?"

The sorcerer's mouth grew slightly agape before it slackened wide, as a new sense of dread unlike any prior to this meeting enveloped him like a sudden storm.

"You know these binds were made to do more than just limit your true potential." The Wile whispered. "There is a reason why you are not healing as quickly as you would be normally... That is why I want to help you. I only ask..." he said as he placed a wing claw under Aiden's chin, "that you give your name, and your full devotion to me. Temporarily, or longer if you so choose. Indeed you could become a valuable member of the flock. Though I grant that choice to be yours."

These words shook the foundation of Aiden's very core, so much so that he nearly collapsed on the spot. Sensing her friend's anguish, Jac shot up from her position.

"What the hell did you say to him?!" she yelled. "Give him some space! He's suffocating!!"

Jac rushed to be by Aiden's side as Richard, surprisingly, did as he was told. The magician allowed the passage of time to recuperate and was thankful that the folks around him gave him the space to do so. There was a lot to unpack in the Alpha's words as they continued to echo in the back of his mind even as he had come to. At this time however, the sorcerer was much more concerned about how Jac took the news, as he sensed that she was behind him even before he looked back. Soon the magician slowly stood up and turned to meet the witch's face with a solemn smile. There was a sense of guilt in his expression, as if he felt like he had betrayed her in some way.

"I... guess you know now." He uttered. "I... I'm sorry... for not saying anything sooner..."

Jac just shook her head with a smile on her face, which brightened up Aiden's mood more than he realized.

"I don't really care about that." She said calmly. "Whether you're a Wile or human doesn't make any difference to me. I'm sure there was a good reason for it, so I won't judge."

"Truth is," Aiden sighed. "I've always known that I was a Wile... But, I barely remember anything of it. My life as I am now is pretty much all I'm used to..." He looked down on the dirt below and began to kick his heel in stimulation, which helped him gain more energy to get his words across. "This was a lot to process... Never in my wildest dreams would I... have guessed I was avian like you guys... On one hand I'm... curious about that. To be able to fly... and to travel great distances in a short span of time? That sounds like it could be the experience of a lifetime.. And yet..."

Aiden dropped to his knees and began to fold onto himself once more, though not as tightly. "What if I change? I could become dangerous, especially to humans, and that's... counterintuitive to everything I stand for... How am I to show the world that magic is meant to be beneficial when I become the very thing that people fear?"

"It's lamentable how badly the humans have bewitched you." The Alpha Wile mumbled.

"Shut it, Richard!" Jac exclaimed to the bird, before returning to Aiden with a softer glance. She took a moment to come up with the right words, before she spoke softly. "Goro has enlightened me to a lot of what's going on. Do you know who did it? The one who sealed you in your human form?"

"No." Aiden replied. "It must have happened before my memories were wiped."

"If my readings are correct, it remains." Rikuo announced. "Unbinding your soul will help you to regain everything you have lost. Your memories, your magic, and your full lifespan. You have more to gain than not from this."

"For once, I'm in agreement." Jac replied. She sat down on her knees next to the still humbled magician, and with the latter's permission, she held a hand to his back. "I don't think you need to worry. All the things you've said to me earlier, about your mission... I can tell that your heart was poured into those words! I believe that no matter what happens, you won't turn against humans. Even if this, seal or whatever it is, is broken... you'll still largely be your old self!"

"You think so?" Aiden asked, as his intrusive thoughts were gradually getting the better of him. "What if I snap?... Or turn ravenous! Or..."

"Easy now..." Jac gave it a brainstorm, but in the end she chose to reply to his question honestly. "I can't say for certain that you won't ever do those things. But frankly? I think you'll be fine. You're too good natured to be a monster. Besides, if Goro and most anyone here is any indication, you'll only turn feral as a last resort to protect someone. It matters not what they are, but who."

"...You think so?"

"I know so!"

A long sigh from Aiden was all that left his mouth, to which Jac responded by giving his back a rub. He in truth appreciated his friend's reassurances more than he could verbally express, and it had helped to part the clouds in his head as time went on.

Eventually Aiden stood up and addressed the Alpha without looking at his face directly.

"I... need time, if that's alright. I need to process everything... and... prepare."

The Alpha's smile was back, however small. "Very well then. I will permit a few moons time, or longer if necessary. When you are ready, you shall meet me at sundown at this very spot. That is when the unbinding ritual shall commence!"

Aiden stood with his face towards the ground for a few moments longer, for he couldn't shake the strange feeling he had whenever "unbinding" was brought up. Regardless, he chose to suppress those feelings, as he took a few deep breaths and slowly looked up to the giant with a renewed conviction.

"I guess I gotta." He finally said. "Honestly, if anything, I do look forward to soaring in the sky."

#oc: jac #oc: richard #oc: aiden #bun does writing #dark fantasy #fantasy creature #au #the witch and the raven #g/t #giant tiny #size difference #gt writing

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